


In Season

by Merytsetesh



Category: The Hobbit - All Media Types
Genre: Anal Sex, Bestiality, Bottom!Thorin, Centaurs, Feminization, M/M, Mating Cycles/In Heat, Mating Rituals, Watersports, but not really watersports piss just means different things to centaurs, does it count as bestiality if they're centaurs?, it's just a tiny bit of roleplay
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-01-15
Updated: 2014-01-15
Packaged: 2018-01-08 18:53:31
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,547
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1136193
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Merytsetesh/pseuds/Merytsetesh
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Thorin is always frisky in spring and Dwalin is just the stallion for the job.</p>
<p>Yep, it's gay dwarf centaur porn. Seriously, that's it. Maybe a tiny bit of plot, but mostly really kinky porn with horse bits.</p>
            </blockquote>





	In Season

**Author's Note:**

  * For [LadyNorthstar](https://archiveofourown.org/gifts?recipient=LadyNorthstar).



> This is the dirtiest, filthiest, kinkiest things I have ever and will ever write. I had been meaning to write a Dwalin/Thorin ficlet for LadyNorthstar's Dworin tumblr tag challenge, but I never intended…this. She drove me to it! Her and her unexpectedly sexy dwarf-centaur porn! 
> 
> Inspired by this post: http://ladynorthstar.tumblr.com/post/71896577884/tailornorata-time-lord-ramnikul

 

Thorin had been teasing him for days. 

At first it had been subtle: a lingering look or a friendly bump to Dwalin's flank when he trotted by, but as the days grew warmer so too did Thorin's daring. He'd taken to flicking his tail up over his rump to draw attention to his firm hindquarters, long legs, and everything in between. As if Dwalin was not already looking. It was driving him crazy, especially when Thorin did it around the rest of the herd and the eyes of other stallions and mares would be drawn to his fine, coal-black figure. If every centaur from here to the Iron Hills didn't already know Thorin was devoted to Dwalin he would have gone mad with jealously. 

They played this game every year when the mating season began. As the sun brought warmth back into the frozen earth, a different warmth would begin kindle in the bellies of the mares, and the plains below The Mountain would come alive with anticipation. Stallions would spar, hoping to impress a mare with feats of strength or courage. Crafts labored over in winter were completed in time to be presented as courting gifts. The air would become heavy with anticipation and the fragrant musk of the mares. 

Dwalin had no interest in mares, but the mating scents affected him all the same like an itch under his skin. The days preceding the official start of spring, when Dis the matriarch would join with her mate, were always torture as the tension built among the centaurs. 

Today when Thorin started shooting smoldering glances over his shoulder and flicking his tail in Dwalin's direction, they were patrolling the western border of the herd territory, far away from the eyes and ears of others. When Thorin had asked Dwalin to accompany him, Dwalin had hoped that the isolation might lend itself to more pleasant activities than scouting for Warg tracks, and it looked like he was right. 

“Fine weather we're having,” he said, nonchalantly walking through a patch of budding primroses. “The spring air is rather _invigorating_ , don't you think?” 

Thorin snorted. “Don't play coy Dwalin, it doesn't suit you.” 

“You're plenty coy enough for the both of us, I think. Waving your arse under my nose, you're as subtle as a kick to the head.” 

In response, Thorin turned to let Dwalin view him in profile. He was a stunning stallion, tall and well formed, as befitted the brother of the matriarch. His hair and tail were decorated with braids and love knots done by Dwalin's own hand. His skin was tanned from long hours spent galloping under the sun and his black coat gleamed with a light sheen of sweat. Leering at Dwalin, he ran his hands over his chest, pinching his nipples, and with a deep a moan he began to drop from his sheath. 

“This 'subtle' enough for you?” he said, and let out a long stream of piss. 

Stallions often scent marked the edges of their territory as a sign to other herds that theirs boasted many strong warriors, but right now Thorin wasn't scent marking. He wasn't a mare, so his urine wouldn't contain any of the pheromones that signaled a mare was ready to mate, but the act was _suggestive_. It was as explicit an invitation as one could get.

Which is why Dwalin cursed the Maker when the silly sod galloped away towards the Greenwood.

Thorin led him on a merry chase through the forest, between trees, over logs, and under boughs. In other circumstances it might have been fun, but with spring fever upon them Dwalin was only frustrated that his prey was so elusive when he clearly wanted to be caught. To his relief, the chase ended when they arrived in a small, sunlit glade. In its center was the stump of a large tree that had died and left a hole in the canopy. Thorin reached into the stump's hollow and pulled out a glass bottle. 

“You planned this,” Dwalin realized. 

“Of course.” 

“You could have just told me you hid the grease here.” 

Thorin handed it over with a smirk. “What would be the fun in that?” 

When Dwalin pulled the cork he realized it wasn't grease, but fragrant walnut oil; a luxury, but Dwalin wasn't stingy and oiled his fingers generously. Obligingly, Thorin lifted his tail out of the way and exposed himself to Dwalin's hungry eyes. A part of Dwalin wanted to go slowly, to seduce his mate with petting and kissing, but there was time enough the rest of the year for gentle lovemaking. This was spring, for wild, hormone fueled rutting. He thrust two fingers up to the knuckle and Thorin gasped, pressing back into Dwalin's hand urgently. 

“Don't tease.” 

“You've been teasing me all bloody day. Serve you right if I made you beg.” But Dwalin didn't have the patience for that any more than Thorin did, so he fed him a third finger, then a forth in quick succession. 

The oil made everything a slippery mess and Thorin let himself luxuriate in the filthy feel of it. Once he had confessed to Dwalin that he liked to pretend it was his own natural wetness, like a mare would produce, caused by his desire to be bred. Out loud it sounded foolish and Thorin was horribly embarrassed, but Dwalin had never mocked him for it. Instead the stallion's eyes had gone dark with lust and he mounted Thorin vigorously, growling names like 'broodmare' into his ear, and Thorin had come screaming. Since then the fantasy would sometimes feature in their lovemaking, but always in spring. It was why Thorin couldn't resist taunting Dwalin at the beginning of every season, playing the mare about to go into heat. It drove his mate wild. 

Around his fingers Thorin was molten hot and smooth as velvet inside, and Dwalin felt his own prick drop from its sheath. Even by a centaur's standards Dwalin was large with a cock that hung nearly past his knees. Thorin had demonstrated his appreciation for its size with hands and tongue on more than one occasion. It was two-toned, the same nut brown as his coat near his sheath and changing to dark red closer to the head. At the sight of Thorin's hole swallowing his fingers, it slowly filled with blood and rose up until it was twitching in excitement. 

Hindered from full tumescence by the discomfort of a hand half shoved up his arse, Thorin's own cock had dropped fully, but not yet hardened. Unlike Dwalin's, it was all the same fleshy pink as his torso, a flash of pale color against his dark hair. It glistened wetly with oil that had dripped down his arse and past his heavy bollocks. With his other hand Dwalin massaged them gently, almost too big to cup in one palm. 

Thorin shuddered with pleasure. “I'm ready, get on with it!” He stamped a hoof restlessly. 

“You're ready when I say you're ready. I'm not going to jump on you like a damn dog.” With one last squeeze, he let go of Thorin balls to reach around for his cock. It stiffened quickly from the added stimulation until it was hard as stone and throbbing in time with his rapid heartbeat. His internal muscles clenched down around Dwalin's fingers, the tips reaching just shy of where he needed them. 

“Dwalin,” he pleaded when demands wouldn't get him what he wanted, but the other stallion was already pulling his hands away and lining up behind Thorin. 

“Brace yourself,” and then Dwalin was rearing back to get his forelegs around Thorin's middle. Thorin grunted at the sudden weight on his back, but dug his hooves into the earth to hold still while Dwalin found the right position to mount him. After a few seconds of awkward shuffling and blind thrusting under Thorin's tail, the tip of his cock finally caught the rim of Thorin's entrance. Dwalin sank in with a long groan of relief that was echoed by his mate. 

There were no slow, lingering touches or long moments spent savoring every sensation. It was immediate and brutal. Dwalin's hips slammed into Thorin's hard enough to leave bruises, but Thorin gave as good as he got, bucking wildly under him and relishing every second. When Dwalin changed the angle it got even better as his cock nudged against his prostate, sending lightning up with spine. 

“There! Right fucking there.” 

“This what you need?” Wrapping his arm around Thorin's shoulders he pulled them closer. “Answer me.” He looped Thorin's long mane around his fist and tugged his head back. 

“ _Yes,_ ” Thorin hissed between labored breaths.

“Say it.” 

“I need it, need you. Please Dwalin!” Thorin's face twisted with pleasure and a deep flush spread from his cheeks down his neck and chest. Sweat beaded on his brow, matting strands of hair to his face, and he looked up at Dwalin with wide, trusting eyes. He was gorgeous in his passion, and Dwalin slowed his strokes to lean forward and kiss him deeply. Thorin smiled into the kiss and carded his fingers through Dwalin's hair, the bristly crest scratching his palm. They parted for air, panting into each other's open mouths. The moment of tenderness ended when Dwalin spoke. 

“You're so wet, so eager for my cock,” said Dwalin, hot breath tickling Thorin's ear. “You're just gagging to be bred, aren't you?” 

Thorin's mouth fell open in a moan as the words lit a spark low in his gut. 

“Such a sweet cunt on such a pretty mare.” 

“D-Dwalin!” Thorin choked, but the way he tightened around Dwalin's length belied his scandalized tone. There was nothing feminine about the long erection bobbing between his legs, but he let his focus narrow to where Dwalin penetrated him. Dwalin's cock plunged deep, deep enough Thorin thought his stomach should be budging outwards from how full he must be. Each thrust in seemed endless and the displaced oil trickled down between his shaking thighs, smearing between them. To his shame he could even hear it, the obscene, wet sucking noise whenever Dwalin withdrew and the squelch when he thrust back in.

“My lovely little mare. I'm going to breed you properly, fill you with come till it leaks out of you like juice from a peach,” said Dwalin, half pulling out to purposefully drag the wide, flared ridge around the his glans over Thorin's prostate, back and forth, slowing grinding into the spot, until Thorin only had breath left to beg. 

“Fuck, please, please Dwalin, I need it!” He panted heavily, biting his lip in distress and squeezing his eyes shut. “I'm so wet, please, just fuck me harder!” 

Nothing made Dwalin madder with lust than this, his strong, beautiful mate reduced to utter desperation. Snarling like a beast, Dwalin gave Thorin what he asked for. He fucked him mercilessly, thigh muscles bunching with every surge forward, practically kicking up sod as he fought to keep his balance over Thorin's back. He could feel the tension coiling in his bollocks and forced himself to hold it at bay. 

Thorin was in much the same state. His cock flexed helplessly in the open air, slapping against his belly. “More, please, I need—oh, I'm close!” With the spring fever feeding the heat in his loins, Thorin was near climax just from the feel of Dwalin pounding within him. Usually after being mounted Dwalin would finish Thorin off some other way, laying him on his side to suck him or even filling him with his fist, but Thorin was teetering on the edge of orgasm and needed only one more push. 

Dwalin could see the need written plain on Thorin's face. Luckily, he knew just what his mare needed. “That's right, love, come for me. I want you to come all over my cock so fucking hard you _gush_ ,” and then he sucked a dark red love bite right into the sensitive spot below Thorin's ear. 

With a strangled scream, Thorin's orgasm rushed through him. His prick leapt with every scalding hot spurt, painting his belly and the grass below with long white strips. 

The feel of Thorin convulsing around him, practically milking his cock, was enough, and Dwalin let himself drive deep before releasing his load. It wasn't an exaggeration when he told Thorin's he'd fill him to the brim. Previous experience from past springs told him it would be near double his usual spending, his body primed for breeding. His orgasm lasted an age and when it was over he felt like the life had been wrung out of him. 

Still caught in the after shocks of his own climax, Thorin trembled on unsteady legs like a newborn foal. Carefully, gently, Dwalin dismounted, letting his softening cock slip from Thorin's arse followed by a trickle of white, as promised. His backside was a sticky combination of come, sweat, and oil smeared from the base of his tail to just above his hocks. 

“You look like you've been ridden hard and put away wet,” Dwalin said with a smug grin. 

Thorin gave him a side-eyed look. “That was _terrible_.” 

“You love me anyway.” He slapped Thorin arse playfully and watch another blot of come seep out when he jumped. Having just been reamed by a cock the size of his forearm, his hole gaped open, too stretched to keep in all of Dwalin's seed. He looked wet and pink and _inviting_. Dwalin near salivated at the sight, already planning the next round.

But Thorin sank to the ground in exhaustion, sides heaving as he caught his breath. 

“You're going to have leaves stuck to your arse,” said Dwalin. 

“Then I'll go wash in the river later. I'll even let you help.” He gave Dwalin a small, shy smile and held his arms open. “Come here.” 

Dwalin sidestepped the white puddle where Thorin's release had splashed all over the ground and lay down next to him in the soft grass. Folding his legs out of the way, he scooted close until the pair of them were pressed together from shoulder to rump, as close as they could physically be without resuming their previous activities. Thorin sagged against his side, too relaxed and drowsy to bother keeping upright, and tucked his face into Dwalin's neck. 

Without the urgency of earlier, Dwalin could take the time to appreciate the tranquil atmosphere of the glade. Most of the Greenwood was shady, but the clearing Thorin had found was awash with golden sunlight breaking through the treetops. Like any centaur Dwalin preferred the open expanse of fields and plains to forest, but the small clearing felt sheltered rather than confining. It was private, their own little world hidden away in the vast Greenwood. 

“I do love you, you know,” he felt more than heard Thorin speak, though he'd thought Thorin had drifted off. 

“Hmm?” 

“What you said before. That I love you anyway. I don't always say it, but I try to show you.” He took Dwalin's hand in his. “You're my one.” 

Smiling like a lovestruck fool, Dwalin held his mate and pressed a tender kiss to his temple. “And you are mine.” 

Together they feel asleep under the afternoon sun. 

**Author's Note:**

> If you're surprised by the explicitly detailed horse cocks in action here, oh boy so was I. Turns out I'm apparently kinda sorta into horse porn? D: I had to google a lot of strange anatomy questions and watch a lot of YouTube videos to try and figure out the logistic of how centaurs would theoretically bang. I can only hope the NSA minions assigned to monitoring internet usage are enjoying my search history. Also I probably included waaaay too much centaur world building and not enough dwarf culture. Oops.
> 
> For anyone morbidly curious about horse parts, references used for this fic:
> 
> “Points of a horse.” Wikimedia commons. http://upload.wikimedia.org/wikipedia/commons/8/85/Points_of_a_horse.jpg
> 
> “Anatomy, Physiology and Reproduction in the Stallion.” Ontario Ministry of Agriculture and Food. http://www.omafra.gov.on.ca/english/livestock/horses/facts/11-003.htm


End file.
